


A Day in the Life of

by JUBE514



Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akira's a shadow Operative, Art, Cognitive World, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, Humor, Illustrated, M/M, Prompt Art, Shadow Operatives, Yu's a shadow Operative, no knowledge of p3 required
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 23:06:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JUBE514/pseuds/JUBE514
Summary: An example of a far day, far into the future, but not so far, in the life of Akira Kurusu, an average normal everyday weekday where he battles a shadow in the cognitive world, deals with his boss, and then falls into the arms of his boyfriend.He really just wants a raise, a hug, and a coffee, but maybe not in that order.And maybe his co-worker to not be so much of a little shit.





	A Day in the Life of

Today was a really, really bad day.

 

“ _Damn it_!”

 

Akira dove, throwing himself into cover at the sound of the curse.

 

The shadow screams, shaking the shitty walls with the sound and making Akira’s lungs _vibrate_ with the air.

 

“Akira! Go! We have to _leave! Now!_ ”

 

Akira peaks above the cover he’s hiding behind to see the shadow’s form twisting, pulling in on itself and tearing itself apart. The shadow’s yellow eyes shift around, blinking wildly and multiplying across it’s form. The Shadow’s half _melting_ and half spewing it’s toxic black sludge everywhere.

 

Akira takes the advice of the leader, and begins to haul ass.

 

Yu takes the lead, his longer legs easily allowing him to stride ahead of Akira. Yu’s hair is messed up, standing up on one side and wet both from his own sweat and the shadow’s thing slime, the silver strands tinted with a lavender color. Akira’s sure that he doesn't look any better, his entire right leg dipped in the slimey excrement and shining with almost a bath bomb like quality.

 

Yu gets to a door, and bodyslams it open, ignoring the fact that he’s just alerted all the shadows in the area of their location with the sound because the shadow behind them is still _shrieking_ at the top of its lungs, the sound a mixture of a blood-curdling scream and the sound of metal on metal grinding.

 

Akira’s a step behind Yu the entire way, footsteps dogging his elder. Yu is the kind of person that remembers where it's safe to step in this hellhole, even in their rapid ‘get the hell out of dodge’ panic, so Akira trusts him to lead them both to safety.

 

Yu _does_ get both of them out of the safety, pushing Akira out of the quasi-junkyard first before he himself jumps out, closing the gate behind them.

 

The two of them collapse, sitting down heavily trying to catch their breath.

 

They had been investigating the area, Fuuka getting a strange signal from the depths of the TV world’s junkyard and asking for Mitsuru to send some Shadow Operatives to investigate it.

 

Mitsuru’s only full-time, on-call, Shadow Operatives are Akihiko Sanada, Yu Narukami, and Akira Kurusu.

 

Akihiko was … _somewhere_ in Europe, dealing with a shadow of a high up politician with Rise as backup. (It was her world tour, she was getting to be a pretty well known name and she had happened to be in Europe at the time, hence the reason any of them _knew_ about the shadow in the first place, it was complicated okay?)

 

That left the only other two Shadow Operatives to head off into the depths of the TV world to figure out what had pinged Fuuka’s senses.

 

Akira and Yu had been at this for three days now, finding multiple ways in and out of the junkyard, but making no real progress, as everytime that they made the slightest bit of progress they would get pushed back out by another, bigger, shadow. Shadow’s, sometimes, consumed other shadows, and those shadows got to be incredibly powerful, and _incredibly_ unstable. It wasn’t unusual that the two of them had to retreat or backtrack, but it was frustrating.

 

“ **_Fuck!_ **” Yu’s cursing in english, looking at the gate they had retreated from.

 

Oh man, Yu must be _mad_ to curse in English, he’s usually better at keeping his composure.

 

“We were close that time, you think?” Akira’s asking, pushing himself up off the muddy, disgusting, ground and standing straight.

 

Yu sighs, and takes a moment to compose himself.

 

“Yeah.” He’s already moving away from the gate, back towards where Teddie had given them an easy exit from the junkyard. “I think that we had been closer that time than any other so far.”

 

Akira follows his boss, using his already in need of replacement shirt to wipe his knives clean. The tactical gear they’re both wearing is going to need to be scrapped, it’s too covered in all kinds of mud and muck and _lavender slime_ to ever be truly clean again.

 

Hell, from here it looks like Yu’s bleeding from his side, a lucky shot that raked across his ribs. It looks like Yu’s not even feeling it as he walks though, because he seems to give no indication of pain. Akira takes a glance down and see’s Yu’s hands still shaking from the adrenaline as he white-knuckle grips his katana.

 

Akira just sighs, does a mental inventory of his own bruises and injuries. He _thinks_ he’s clean, but Ryuji’s going to go over every inch of him when he manages to get home after today, Ryuji’s going to make _sure_ that Akira’s not ‘getting hurt’ while doing this.

 

Akira not getting hurt. Well, sometimes. But hey! Everytime he manages to get himself injured he either heals himself, or Yu’s there with a helpful Dia spell. The wonder’s of being able to casually use magic.

 

Akira runs a hand through his disheveled hair, wincing as he realizes that he’s _also_ got lavender slime all over his head.

 

Fuck.

 

\--

> [](//imgur.com/EtPAiAa)

 

Yu’s the last out of the TV world, as he always is.

 

Akira slides out with practiced ease, landing on his feet and deftly rolling out of the way as the crinkling-metly sound of distorted plastic signals another coming out of the TV.

 

Yu groans at the real world around him, but stands anyway. He helps Akira to his feet, dusting some shadow remnants off of Akira’s shoulders like the true big brother he was.

 

The two of them are in Mitsuru’s office, the fifty-seventh floor of the Kirijo Group’s skyrise in Tokyo. She sits at the desk, or more truthfully _on_ her desk, holding what looks to be two cups of coffee.

 

“Long day boys?” She asks, holding out the two cups to her employees.

 

“ _Mitsuru_. I love you.” Yu’s moving forward, arms already reaching out for the warm beverage.

 

Yu drinks the coffee for the warmth, the feeling of something in his chest that combats the chill of working in the TV world for so long, the air there on the edge of uncomfortable all year round. Akira drinks the coffee offered to him simply because he’s addicted.

 

“As much as I know you love me, Narukami, I think that Hanamura would try to kill me if I ever did manage to sway you from him.” Mitsuru jokes in that deadpan way of hers, pulling her phone out of her pocket- actually, Akira sees that she doesn't appear to _have_ pockets on that dress, but she manages to pull her phone out of somewhere anyway.

 

Mitsuru’s not the kind of woman to let silly things like the laws of the universe get in her way.

 

Akira admits that the coffee isn't bad, but he’s got a sneaking suspcion that Mitsuru’s kidnapped Boss just to make her coffee on demand. Sojiro _has_ made updates to LeBlanc recently, really nice ones, but the influx of customers hasn’t changed from since Akira was in highschool.

 

Akira takes another sip, and decides to not bother himself with it.

 

Mitsuru goes about answering emails from her phone, tapping away with the _click-click_ of her nails across glass in the otherwise silence of the room. Yu’s decompressing after a TV run, and Akira’s dead set on finishing this beverage before he bothers himself with doing something as simple as _talking_ to other people.

 

“I’ve taken the liberty of emailing the R&D department about your uniforms.” Mitsuru says, glancing at the two disheveled boys in front of her. “I don’t think even _Tatsumi_ could work his magic to save those outfits. We’ll have to put in a delay on finding what’s causing the disturbance in the Cognitive World as you two both recuperate and we fix up your weapons and armor.”

 

Akira’s mind jumps to his knives, secured to his lower back, and mentally checks them to see if they’ve taken on damage. He can’t remember if they looked any truly worse for the wear. He’s hesitant to turn over his knives, they’re his _babies_ . A gift from Haru on Akira’s twentieth birthday. He lets Kirijo look after them when he’s not able to keep them on him, simply because they can add _really friggin cool_ upgrades to them, but he likes having those knives around.

 

Yu also looks hesitant to give up his own blade, an old reliable from Yu’s own high school days. That weapons been around longer than some children have been _alive_. It’s name is Totsuka and it sometimes hums with the sounds of the reaper.

 

Akira _doesn’t_ ask questions about it.

 

He doesn’t touch it either, but that’s his own personal preference.

 

(Akira’s not jealous that Yu and Yosuke have matching weapons, all three of the blades singing with the soft sounds of the reaper when the room is quiet. Akira has a _plan_ , and it does involve Haru getting Ryuji a specially made metal staff with the same engravings as his own daggers.)

 

(He’s _not_ jealous)

 

“We can go home?” Yu’s question almost sounds like he doesn’t believe Mitsuru.

 

“Soon, yes.” Mitsuru’s smiling, that perfect political press conference smile, and Akira knows that both him and Yu are _fucked_.

 

\--

 

“ _If you both can get changed, please._ ” Akira grumbles, pitching his voice into Mitsuru’s register. “ _I would love for you both to take some questions-”_.

 

Yu laughs from where he’s washing that lavender slime out of his hair.

 

The two of them are getting ready to field some questions from the press about the current going-ons about the Kirijo Group. They’ve managed to get themselves to the secret floor of the R&D department without being noticed and into the employee shower area.

 

(The first time Akira had whispered ‘ _focus_ ’ to himself as he proceeded to parkour his way across the floors to avoid strange glances Yu had laughed at him. Now Yu just follows behind as Akira puts the ‘powers of thievery’ to good use and avoid the questioning stares of the regular office workers.)

 

(He’s not _abusing_ his magical powers, okay? Akira’s just not in the mood to explain to the very nice secretary, _again,_ why he’s wearing tactical gear and covered in blood okay?)

 

The shower’s a nicer once, nicer than the one that Akira used all throughout his second year of high school at any rate, and the two of them work what’s essentially straight rubbing alcohol through their hair to get rid of the purple-ish slime.

 

The slime comes out in dried up clumps of pathetic, foul smelling, _brown_ chunks. Yu made a noise in the back of his throat the first time he had washed the first round out of his hair, a distinctly gagging noise. Akira was just thankful that he didn’t actually have to leave the room at the sight of it.

 

Akira’s hair is longer than Yu’s, but Yu took the hit directly to the face, so they end up spending about the same amount of time washing the stuff out. The shampoo smells much nicer as they lather it in, the steamy room filling with the scent of freshly picked mint.

 

The conditioner’s smell of _pineapple_ is _entirely_ Yusuke’s fault, (it was a pretty wild New Years party, okay?) and it has the faint hint of glitter in it. Yu’s not to bothered by it, as his own silvery-white hair doesn’t show the glitter much, but Akira’s hair is _black_ and it catches the yellow glittery shine with almost an unfair ease.

 

It wouldn’t have been so bad if the conditioner had only lasted a few weeks, but it was _June_ already, and they were only halfway through the bottle.

 

Mitsuru’s already given them a pair of smart suits in the locker room when they’re done getting shadowy bits off of them.

 

The tactical gear had been just an entirely lost cause. Yu had managed to wiggle out of his shirt, present it to Akira as a testament of his skill to keep the garment in one piece during battles, and then the two of them watched at the torso part of the shirt had detached from the sleeves and fell with a ‘ _plop’_ to the floor.

 

The suits had been designed and made by Kanji, and honestly Akira felt like these could be _just_ as protective as the tactical gear. The suits had been crafted to the very centimeter of their bodies, the colors perfectly complimenting their complections and the cut giving them both the perfect presentation to the public.

 

The two of them, _officially_ , on _tax_ forms, are public relations officers of the Kirijo Group in Tokyo.

 

They basically are the first people that get thrown to the press during conferences and they run the Twitter account.

 

(Hell yeah, Akira runs that Twitter account like a _dream_ . Whoever runs the Nanjo Corporation Twitter can suck Akira’s entire ass he is _way_ cooler, okay? Yu just rolls his eyes when Akira gets into heated arguments on the internet and updates Kirijo Group’s Instagram.)

 

“How did she even _know_ we were going to come out of the TV at that time? We didn’t _tell_ her we were leaving?” Akira’s grumbling as he dries his hair with a fluffy towel.

 

“Are you questioning Mitsuru’s ability to know things?” Yu asks from his position at the mirror, covering up a small scar across the bridge of his nose with makeup.

 

Akira opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and closes it.

 

Yu just laughs, “Fuuka probably told her.”  
  
“Curse _Fuuka_ then, for knowing everything.” Akira’s hair is finally mostly dry, and as he looks into the mirror his hair is just a fluffy halo around his head.

 

Yu just rolls his eyes, leaning back and checking the makeup, just in case he missed a spot.

 

Akira pulls his hair back into a small bun, Yu makes does up his tie in a way that Akira has only seen scrolling through Pinterest at three in the morning.

 

The two of them make themselves amazing presentable, for having battling a smile monster only about an hour beforehand, and leave to go deal with a volley of reporters.

 

\--

 

Akira throws himself on the shitty sofa when he gets to the apartment that he and Ryuji share.

 

Ryuji’s already home, on the floor and doing homework for the college courses he’s taking when Akira just barges in.

 

“Hey Akira.” Ryuji greets him, ignoring Akira’s long groan. “There’s food in the fridge if you want it. You’ll need to reheat it in the microwave though.”

 

Akira’s groan turns much more appreciative, but he doesn't move from his very comfortable spot. Ryuji brushes his knuckles against Akira’s, giving Akira a once over, before moving to sit in  between Akira’s legs and continuing on with his homework.

 

Akira really can’t move now, he has a _Ryuji_ in his lap.

 

But that’s okay.

 

Ryuji asks him how his day went, how the battle in the TV world had worked out for him and why he needed to take a shower afterwards?

 

“Fuck, how’d you know?” Akira asks, his language being _tainted_ by Ryuji’s constant stream of curses.

 

“You have yellow glitter in your hair,” Ryuji points out, “You also don’t smell like sweaty _ass_ , like you normally do when you just come straight home.”

 

“You told me that I smelled like sunshine when I come home?” Akira pouts, shifting to rest his head on Ryuji’s.

 

“Yeah, like you’ve been working in the sunshine. It’s what my mom always told me after I ran distance in the hot sun in the summer.” Ryuji leans further back into Akira’s knees, putting the cap on his yellow highlighter. “It doesn't actually mean you smell good, leader.”

 

“I had a press conference today, s’why Mitsuru made us look presentable.” Akira admits, choosing to ignore Ryuji’s comment and continue to believe that Ryuji thinks he smells _amazing_ after work, thank you very much.

 

“Oh? Anything interesting?”

 

“We were asked the usual stuff, how the progress in the new medical equipment is going, if the government's really controlling us and that's why we get all kinds of tax breaks, the usual you know.”

 

Ryuji just laughs, and reaches up and pats Akira’s thigh.

 

Akira relaxes further into his boyfriend.

 

Today was a really, really good day.

**Author's Note:**

> its 1:54 and I have midterms tomorrow lmao
> 
> https://twitter.com/Yarbs514/status/1123777932969824256 
> 
> Art for this fic


End file.
